


We're Okay

by psychicdreamsandangelwings



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Budding Love, Fluff, M/M, a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicdreamsandangelwings/pseuds/psychicdreamsandangelwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl comes back from a run late and injured. Rick takes it upon himself to check him over, unexpectedly taking their relationship to the next level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This has literally been sitting on my computer for over a month now, it's about time I post it.

It began as an accident really, their relationship that is. Subtle touches and barely concealed sultry glances escalated into late night talks and solo runs with just the two of them. Rick found himself going to Daryl for everything, and Daryl seemed to do the same with him. Daryl was the one constant in Rick’s hectic life, his level headed confidante, the man he trusted to always tell him how it was. Their relationship developed into something he couldn’t explain, because there wasn’t a word, or any combination of words, that could possibly describe what Daryl Dixon was to him. He was his best friend. His partner. His lover. His Daryl, Daryl sounds better. He cares about him, he’ll die to protect, and he’ll always be there for him.

So when twilight hits and the group who’d left that morning on a run hasn't returned, worry hits Rick like a ton of bricks. He can feel dread start clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach. He tries to push it back down, tries to act like everything is fine, but as the seconds tick by it gets harder and harder to do so. They should have been back by now, should have been back hours ago. It's getting darker by the second and the later it got the more dangerous it is to be outside of the prison.

Rick's sitting alone in the common room, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the metal table. Every minute they were gone only solidifies the fact that something bad has happened to his people. Judith is cradled in his arms, sucking on the purple pacifier Glenn had picked up when they noticed she's starting to teeth. It's not the best, but it's something. Having her in his arms not only helped calm his racing heart, but also gave him a reason to stay in one place. He doesn't want to start pacing the corridors like some love sick puppy.

Rick hears footsteps coming up the corridor and looks up, hoping to see Daryl’s familiar frame taking up the doorway. But it's only Carl, carrying a bowl and spoon. “Any word?” Rick asks hopefully, already knowing the answer. If Daryl was back he’d be the one standing in front of him right now.

Carl shakes his head as he walks over and Rick’s chest tightens. No group has ever been this late before and Rick can only fear the worst has happened to his people. Once Carl’s close enough, he can smell the food he’s got and his stomach growls. For the first time he realizes he hasn't eaten today, too sick with worry to even think about it. “Eat,” Carl says, sitting down next to his father. “You haven’t eaten today and you’re only gonna make yourself sick.”

“I can’t eat,” Rick says, pushing the bowl away from him. Rick’s too worried about his people to even think about eating.

Carl only pushes the bowl back towards him, stubborn as a damn ox. “Daryl would want you to eat. In fact, if he knew you weren't eating because of him he’d kick your ass,” Carl says, tone suggesting that he knew more about Rick and Daryl’s relationship then Rick had originally thought. They haven't told anybody about their changing relationship, mainly because they don't know what their relationship is, and the idea that Carl has picked up on the subtle change surprises him.

“What?” Carl asks at Rick’s questioning look. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed? Dad, I don’t care. These days, we take whatever happiness we can get. Daryl’s good for you, and you’re good for him. After everything the two of you have been through, you deserve happiness. I miss Mom every day, and I know you do to in a way, but she’d want you to be happy. If Daryl makes you happy, then I don’t care. I don’t know what your relationship is entirely, maybe you don’t know what it is, but it’s something the both of you need.”

Rick doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't speak. Knowing that his son is okay with his and Daryl’s relationship, whatever it may be, makes him feel better about it. It's kind of funny, worrying about something like that when they lived in the world they lived in. His kids mean more to him than anything, and knowing that Carl approved of whatever him and Daryl were made him feel a whole lot better. He claps Carl on the shoulder with his free hand, smiling.

“Now eat,” Carl says, pushing the bowl back towards Rick.

Rick sighs and starts eating, careful not to jostle Judith. He doesn't know what it was, some kind of stew, but it's good.

“He’s gonna make it back, you know,” Carl says a few minutes later. “Daryl always makes it back.”

Rick nods, though he isn't reassured. Daryl has never been this late before, and Rick can’t help but feel like something has gone horribly wrong. By the time Rick finishes eating, it’s well past dark and the group still hasn't returned. Rick is starting to get restless, his legs twitching every few seconds, and he can’t seem to keep his hand still for more than a few seconds.

“You sure you don’t want me to take Judith?” Carl asks, but Rick only shakes his head.

“She helps keep me calm,” he says. “Besides, if I’ve got her I won’t start pacing the room.”

Rick barely finishes his sentence before he hears low voices and footsteps coming up the nearest corridor. Rick’s on his feet in an instant, hoping, praying it’s them. Sure enough, Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, Tyreese, and Maggie, everyone that had gone on the run, come through the door followed closely by Carol and Sasha.

Carl’s next to him in a second, scooping Judith into his arms so that Rick can hurry across the room. “Thank god,” Rick says, unable to stop his frantic heartbeat. If they had died, he’d have to bury five of the most important people in his life all at once. He knows he can't handle that.

Rick’s itching to reach out and reassure himself that Daryl’s actually there, that he’s all in one piece, but he holds himself back. Now was not the time for personal reassurances, he’ll save that for later when it’s just the two of them. They've got other things to deal with right now. “What the hell happened?”

“Ran in ta some trouble,” Daryl says, voice gruff. “But we handled it.”

It isn't until now he realizes the state the five of them are in. They've all got some form of injury. Tyreese is limping, Michonne has a long gash across her face, Maggie’s shirt is torn almost completely in half and her hair is soaked with blood, a blood soaked bandage covers Glenn’s right hand, and Daryl’s sporting a black eye so bad his eye is completely swollen shut. Everyone looks worse for wear, but none as much as Glenn.

“Glenn, what the fuck did you do to your hand?” Rick asks, eyes fixed on the blood soaked bandage.

“This idiot thought it’d be a good idea to intercept a knife, with his hand,” Maggie says. Despite her hostile tone Rick can tell she’s shaken up.

“I wasn't gonna let that dick stab you,” Glenn says, anger shining through his voice. “He almost killed you.”

“He could have cut your hand off!” Maggie says, voice rising.

“But he didn’t!” Glenn yells back.

“That’s not the point Glenn!” Maggie says, and Rick can tell this argument is only going to get more heated.

Apparently Carol thought the same as Rick because she interrupts the bickering couple. “Alright that’s enough. Glenn, it was stupid to stop a knife with your hand. Maggie, he probably saved your life. End of story. Now, tell us what the hell happened.”

Rick wants nothing more than to hear what had gone down, but one glance at the others and he can tell they’re exhausted. They need medical attention first and foremost, the story can be told later. “No, not yet. They need to get looked at. The five of you,” Rick makes sure he emphasizes the word five, throwing a glance over at Daryl, “need to get checked out by Hershel.”

“No,” Daryl says, and Rick isn't the least bit surprised. “I’m fine, it’s them that needs the real attention.”

Rick and Daryl stare off for a few seconds before Rick reluctantly backs off. There’s no use in reasoning with someone as stubborn as Daryl. “Fine. If you won’t let Hershel look you over, you’re coming with me. Hershel can focus his attention on them, I’ll focus mine on you.”

He can tell Daryl’s about to argue but he doesn't say a word, he knows it’s no use. Rick won’t be able to officially calm down until he himself looks Daryl over. “Fine,” Daryl says, stalking off towards Rick’s cell.

Rick retrieves Judith from Carl, careful not to wake up the sleeping baby. “I’m gonna check on the stubborn ass hunter, you four go see Hershel.”

“I’ll start sorting through the supplies you guys brought back,” Carl says, stepping forward to gather the packs the group had brought back with them.

“I’ll help,” Carol and Sasha say at the same time, moving forward to help Carl.

The three of them carry the packs over to one of the nearby tables and began to sort through them. Tyreese, Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne turn around to search for Hershel as Rick makes his way over to his cell.

Daryl is already waiting for him, sitting on the bed with his shirt off. Rick walks over to the corner of his cell where Judith’s box sits propped up on a couple of crates. He ought ‘a do something about that, it’s not right to keep a baby in a box. Rick carefully lays Judith down, covering her up with her blanket, before he turns his attention back to Daryl. The cell’s dark so Rick lights a candle

“You lying ass,” Rick says once he catches sight of Daryl’s body. His chest, stomach, and sides are a dirty mess of cuts and bruises, not deep enough to need stitches but still deep enough to bleed. Rick can notice Daryl rubbing his shoulder, almost as if it’s causing him pain, and his breathing is slightly labored. Judging by the amount of bruising covering Daryl’s stomach, he’s surprised the man can breathe properly at all.

“What the hell happened?” Rick asks as he wets a piece of cloth and begins to clear away the blood and dirt on Daryl’s body.

“Run was going good,” Daryl says, wincing slightly as Rick passes over a particularly tender spot. “I went off to raid an abandoned bar, just to see what they might have, while the rest of the group was in the next building over. I didn’ notice the trap ‘til it was too late. Serves me right,” Daryl says with a humorless laugh. “I wasn’ payin’ attention and this happened.”

Rick continues to clean Daryl of as much blood and dirt as he can, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Bunch a biker types,” Daryl says, gasping as Rick presses against a nasty bruise along his ribs. “Said they had claimed the bar. I tried ta back out, the last thing I wanted was a fight, but it was too late, they were all on me. I knocked one out, but there was jus’ too many of ‘em, I couldn’ take on all of ‘em at once. The others must ‘a heard all the commotion ‘cause they came runnin’.”

Rick frowns, he doesn't like the idea of a group of men beating on his people. “A fight broke out, was really startin’ ta get ugly. We took most of ‘em out right away, the others ran once they realized we weren’ the type of people to fuck with. Got away with a bunch of injuries, but at least we got away. We took care of our injuries as best we could, Maggie had hit ‘er head hard and we had ta wait ‘til she could actually walk without falling over. Eventually we went back to the car but the tires were slashed and all the nearby cars wouldn’ start. We had no choice but to start walkin’. We gathered everythin’ from the car and started walking back to the prison. Tyreese’s ankle was pretty banged up so we had to go slow. We walked for a while ‘fore we came across a car that worked, got in it, and high tailed back to the prison. We knew y’all would be worrying about us.”

Once Rick’s finished clearing away the dirt and blood, he runs his fingers across Daryl’s ribs, checking for any broken ones. “At least you’re here now,” Rick says softly. The idea of someone trying to kill his people angers him more than anything. Nobody fucks with his people. “I’ve got half a mind to hunt them down and kill them myself.”

“S’not worth it,” Daryl says, rubbing at his shoulder. “We all got out, that’s all that matters in the end.”

Rick doesn't miss the way Daryl rubs at his shoulder. “Turn ‘round,” Rick says, and Daryl does. Rick catches sight of Daryl’s back and a rush of rage runs through him. Thick white scars crisscross over his back, marring the otherwise perfect skin. He doesn't know the story behind them, but he’s always had a feeling they were caused by his father. ‘Course he’s seen Daryl without a shirt before, has traced over the scars with nimble fingers, but Daryl doesn't like talking about his past and Rick isn't about to push him to do so.

Rick ignores the scars, instead focusing on Daryl’s aching shoulder. There aren't any bruises to signal why it would be hurting him. “What’d you do to your shoulder?” Rick asks, gently kneading at the tense muscle.

“Jus’ sore,” Daryl replies, relaxing under Rick’s gentle touch.

Rick kneads the corded muscle, trying to work out all the knots. He’s as gentle as he can be, not wanting to put him through any more pain than needed. “Maybe you should take it easy with that crossbow of yours,” Rick says, only half joking.

Daryl just grunts and shifts into a more comfortable position. Rick takes that as a sign Daryl’s not in the mood to talk and focuses on getting all the kinks out of the tense muscle. A few minutes later, when the muscle is all worked out, he presses his lips against Daryl’s skin and pulls away.

“Better?” he asks.

 Daryl rolls his shoulder and sighs softly. “Much.”

“Good,” Rick says. He can’t help but stare at Daryl’s scars, a million scenarios running through his head. Daryl must realize what he’s doing because he speaks up.

“My Daddy sure did a number on me, didn’t he?” Daryl’s asks, voice soft.

“You don’t need to talk about it,” Rick says softly. “The last thing I want is for you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.” Rick’s fingers hover over Daryl’s back, too afraid to touch anything. Of course he wants to hear the story behind the scars, but he’s not going to pressure Daryl into doing something he wasn't ready for.

“s’okay,” Daryl says, turning his head around so he’s looking over his shoulder at Rick. “‘He was a drunk, liked to beat on me and Merle after our mama died. It only got worse when Merle left. I spent so much ‘a my childhood terrified of him, I reckon he’s the only person who ever scared me.”

Rick doesn't speak, too afraid to say the wrong thing and make Daryl close up on him. He knows Daryl’s past isn't pleasant, he’s just never heard it in detail. He runs his fingers over the scars, fingers so light Daryl can barely feel them. He’s never seen his back like this, completely exposed and vulnerable, and the years of abuse he had suffered at his father’s hands is clearly evident. Daryl shivers and Rick almost pulls away, but Daryl’s voice stops him.

“Don’,” Daryl says. “Don’ stop. I’ve always been self-conscious of ‘em, they make me look weak. ‘M tired of hidin’ though, at least from you. I want ya to see ‘em, touch ‘em, give ‘em a new feelin’. Yer the only person ‘m comfortable with to show.”

Rick slips up on the bed beside him, sitting crisscross behind him. Daryl’s sitting in front of him, back slightly bent. From this position Rick can clearly see all his scars, crisscrossed across his entire back. Some are long and skinny, others are short and thick. Rick takes his time, slowly tracing over them with his fingertips.

“He used whatever he could get at: belts, fists, boots, whatever he could reach. He liked the belt, used to tie my hands to this bar attached to the wall and whip me,” Daryl says, shuddering. His body is tense, and Rick runs his hands over Daryl's skin to calm him down. It's got to be hard talking about something like this, especially with how closed off Daryl is. “For years I lived like that, in constant fear. Sometimes I wished he’d jus’ kill me, put me out of my misery. Then I got away, never looked back. Still don’ know what happened to him, maybe he died, maybe he didn’t. I don’ really care.” His voice is so soft Rick has to strain to hear him.

Rick doesn't know what to say. I’m sorry would only make Daryl feel like Rick was pitying him, telling him he’s okay now seemed stupid. “Thank you,” Rick says finally, deciding that’s the best he can do. “For tellin' me, that means more than you'll ever know.”

Daryl nods, that simple action enough for him, and the cell descends into silence. After a few minutes Rick wraps his arms around Daryl, pulling him against his chest, and rests his face against the back of his neck. “I almost lost you today,” Rick says. “I was so worried you weren't gonna come back.”

Daryl slips out of Rick’s grip, turning so he’s looking at Rick. He rests a hand against the side of Rick’s face, thumb smoothing against his skin. “But you didn’t.”

“That’s not the point,” Rick says, leaning against his hand. “You've become… so important to me Daryl, I don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“Come here,” Daryl says, laying back in bed. Daryl presses himself all the way against the wall before pulling Rick down next to him. They’d never done anything like this, never gotten this close to each other, but as Daryl’s arms wrap around Rick’s body he has to admit it’s nice. “We’re okay, you and me.”

Rick’s lips twitch into a smile as he presses his face against Daryl’s neck. They were okay, and that was good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought.


End file.
